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Updated: May 1, 2025
Georgiana gave no response, save a look well nigh as vacant in the interchange. "But you haven't eaten at all!" said Merthyr. Emilia shook her head. "No." "Eat, my Sandra! to please me! You will need all your strength if you would be a match for Georgey anywhere where there's action." "Yes!" Emilia traversed his words with a sudden outcry. "Yes, I will go to London.
Oh, Sandra! it would be pleasant to me if we might both be buried for seven days, and have one long howl of weakness together. A little bite of satisfaction makes me so tired. I believe there's something very bad for us in our always being at war, and never, never gaining ground. Just one spark of triumph intoxicates us. Look at all those people pouring out again.
"O my God, my God!" the queen kept repeating in her grief: her arms fell by her side, like the arms of a statue weeping by a tomb. "Listen, Dona Sandra. I know that your heart has never clung to earthly vanities, and that you only wait till God has called me to Himself to withdraw to the convent of Santa Maria delta Croce, founded by yourself in the hope that you might there end your days.
Pole, "I know one of those in the orchestra. May I write a word to him on a piece of paper before we go? I wish to." Mr. Pole reflected, and seeing her earnest in her desire to do this, replied: "Well, yes; if you must the girls are not here." Emilia borrowed his pencil-case, and wrote: "Sandra is well, and always loves her caro papa, and is improving, and will see him soon.
She did not know why I was christened that, and will never call me anything but Emilia, though my father says Sandra, always. My father never speaks of that dear Sandra herself, except when he is tipsy. Once I used to wish him to be tipsy; for then I used to sit at my piano while he talked, and I made all his words go into music.
Carse gave the controls to Ban and examined it carefully through the electelscope, after removing the infra-red attachment. He saw that the keel of the Sandra had torn a great, mangled rent in the dome and through this the air had rushed out. Space had taken possession.
"Merciful heaven!" whispered Eliot Leithgow, staring at the desolation. "Gone! Just snuffed out!" The Hawk took over again and brought and held the Sandra in a position a quarter of a mile above the now rapidly falling asteroid. "They're all dead, I'm sure," he said in a voice hard and emotionless as his graven face.
The Walloon soldiers were for immediately plundering their houses, as if plunder had been the object for which they had been sent to Antwerp. It was several hours before Champagny, with all his energy, was able to quell these disturbances. In the course of the day, Oberstein received a letter from Don Sandra d'Avila, calling solemnly upon him to fulfil his treaty of the 29th of October.
But in Athens in the sunshine, in Athens, where it is almost impossible to get afternoon tea, and elderly gentlemen who talk politics talk them all the other way round, in Athens sat Sandra Wentworth Williams, veiled, in white, her legs stretched in front of her, one elbow on the arm of the bamboo chair, blue clouds wavering and drifting from her cigarette.
Hard Times was a hasty piece of work, written between the winter of 1853, and the summer of 1854, and it cannot be considered one of Dickens's notable successes. George Meredith wrote four of his greatest novels in seven years, Richard Feverel, Evan Harrington, Sandra Belloni, and Rhoda Fleming being produced between 1859 and 1866. His poem, Modern Love, was also written during that period.
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